Conversations With The ThermostatIt is a Holiday, and I am at home. It is normally around this time during these kinds of days that I realize that I am cold, and mutteringly go up the stairs to have a conversation with the thermostat.
"Thermostat," say I, "I am cold. I note that the heat is not to a usual level. What is the problem here?"
The thermostat is cheerful; it has a simple job, and does it well. It likes the tasks of instructing the furnace when to engage, when to stop, it sits at a small desk kept in neat order, and is pleased to spend the time there, keeping things going. The thermostat has a perfect understanding of the situation, and a bubbly reply: "well, sure it's cold in here! You're at work right now!"
This is where things get a little sticky; it is not that the thermostat is stupid, just that it's very focused, and quite happy to be set in ways it understands. I stand there uncomfortable for a moment, and the thermostat eventually emits a sad and sheepish:
"Oh."
And I feel a little badly about that. It's not the thermostat's fault, after all - I'm the one deviating from the plan here. The thermostat is doing its best, and I find no fault with the work. In the end, both the thermostat and I understand this, and reach an accord of respect, and it knows that it is not a reflection on itself even as I fiddle with the switches to breathe heat back into the radiators.
Somewhere in the basement, the serene Japanese gentleman of a furnace moves a hand with grace, and it is so.
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